


Reliance

by RoseMeister (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angela needs to sleep, F/F, Pre-Relationship, or i dunno actually talk about her problems for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/RoseMeister
Summary: She's working. Again. There's always more work for her to do, whether she is she is researching or patching up the agents, or even just doing paperwork no one else manages to complete. It's astonishing, really, how much paperwork a supposedly non existent organisation requires.Late at night in Watchpoint Gibraltar, Angela and  Fareeha come to a sort of agreement.





	Reliance

It's 2am and like most nights, Angela is still awake. The Watchpoint is as silent as it is likely to ever be, and Angela is glad for what quiet she can have. The buildings haven't been maintained well in the years since Overwatch was disbanded, and their unofficial nature now makes repairs difficult, especially when the engineers they do have on their team have much more important work to do than patch up grumbling pipes and creaky floors.

She's working. Again. There's always more work for her to do, whether she is she is researching or patching up the agents, or even just doing paperwork no one else manages to complete. It's astonishing, really, how much paperwork a supposedly non-existent organisation requires.

She's glad her office is so far apart from most of the bedrooms. Angela knows that the healthiest thing for her to be doing right now is sleeping, but, well. Ever since she was a student she's had difficulty sleeping, and she's only gained more responsibility and stress since then.

Her nanites probably don't help. They might reduce the amount of sleep she needs to function, but what they're really doing is giving her just one more excuse to stay awake.

Like she needed more of them.

* * *

 

_It's not dark. You'd think it would be, believe that the worst things can only be done under the moon's gaze, but you'd be wrong. Atrocity after atrocity has been committed in broad daylight, and today is no different._

_She came here because she thought she could make a difference. Thought that just because she'd been called a genius, graduated earlier than most, she was smart enough to stop a war. That by stitching up victim after victim she could truly make a difference._

_Not today. Not when death and vengeance walk in human form. Not when farmers hate enough to throw weapons together and kill without mercy._

_She's 22, and today is the first time she has seen a person die. It's so much worse than looking at a cadaver, something separate enough from life that she can almost ignore it, but a human, someone whose life she felt drain away, for no amount of stitches, no drugs, or bandages available here are enough to save a man torn in half._

_There's so much blood. There's so much death. And Angela, who came here believing herself a hero, finds herself hiding amidst rubble like a coward._

_She doesn't want to believe it yet, but there is nothing she can do here. No amount of heroics can save dead men and women._

_She hears crunching footsteps, and her heartbeat stutters, and all she is, is Fear_

* * *

 

__Mercy snaps her head up from her desk, her heart racing to the same rhythm as the unending swirl of her mind. She's at Gibraltar, she reminds herself, trying to leave the final dregs of her dream behind. She's 37 now, and safe. Safe. Somehow the word is no longer as convincing as it used to be._ _

__She wakes her computer up from its own sleep, and ramps the brightness up on the screen, hoping the light will keep her awake._ _

__There's always more work to be done._ _

* * *

  _ _If Angela is honest with herself, it's not just work that keeps her awake. In ways, it's just another excuse, one that works better on her own mind than on others. The new Overwatch will fall apart if she is not there to help guide it, she will think. The lives of thousands will be improved with this research, she will whisper to herself. But she is just trying to avoid the topic, trying to skirt around memories that burn like acid in her mind.__

__But she is hardly the only one with nightmares. Hardly the only one burdened with the faces of those she could not save._ _

__She just happens to believe she has failed more people than most._ _

* * *

  _ _There's a knock at her door. It's soft, unobtrusive, and for longer than is probably polite, Angela hesitates, wondering if she could pretend to be asleep. She is known for falling asleep at her desk after all.__

__But the walls are thin, and she knows that anyone with ears to listen must've been able to hear her typing from outside._ _

__And so, she unlocks the door._ _

__Fareeha steps in quietly, holding two mugs of something that sends steam spiralling towards the ceiling. There's a kind of masked worry hidden in her eyes, hard to see if you aren't expecting it._ _

__Angela thinks they know each other too well by now to hide predictable emotions like that._ _

__"I thought you might appreciate a break." Fareeha says calmly. But there is a strength hidden beneath her tone, and a glint in her eyes that makes Angela think Fareeha knows why she's still awake._ _

__"I think you know me a bit too well." Angela says, sighing. She turns her computer screen off, and gestures towards her couch._ _

__Fareeha smiles, and only hands her a mug after they're both settled on Angela's worn couch. It's from before Overwatch was dismantled, something she got second hand anyway. But it's comfortable, and familiar. The is large enough for three people to sit without invading anyone's personal space, and yet they end up sitting close anyway._ _

__The warmth of the cup in her hands rivals that of the woman beside her, and Angela raises it towards her face in order to smell it. Chamomile. Unsurprising._ _

__"Are you trying to suggest something?" She questions._ _

__"I don't know what you're talking about." Fareeha replies, but there is a mischievous smile on her face, and Angela shoves her shoulder lightly._ _

__There's a companionable silence, and Angela takes a sip of her tea, humming appreciably at the taste. She would've been content to sit quietly for hours._ _

__It didn't seem like Fareeha quite agreed with her in that regard, however._ _

__"Have you had nightmares again tonight?" She asks quietly._ _

__"Yes."_ _

__"Do you want to talk about them?"_ _

__"There's not much to tell. I'm surrounded by lots of dead people I can't save. I think I'm going to die. The usual."_ _

__She hears a heavy exhale leave Fareeha, and regrets almost immediately her being so short with a woman who has already shown her so much kindness._ _

__"I'm sorry," she says quickly, "I'm just tired." It's a poor excuse, and they both know it._ _

__"You're not the only one with nightmares, you know."_ _

__Angela tightens her hands around the mug. She knows. She knows she probably hasn't even seen anything close to the true horrors of war and conflict, and yet it's enough to keep her up at night. She shouldn't complain. She doesn't know why she does this to herself, dragging not only herself but also Fareeha into her problems._ _

__"I said that wrong." Fareeha mutters, and shifts closer to Angela. "Look, I'm sure every single person in Overwatch has their own personal traumas, and there is no way to compare them."_ _

__Angela doesn't reply, not yet._ _

__"I thought Ana was dead for a long time before she contacted me. And in all rights I should have been happy that she was still alive. But all I was, was mad. I still am. I just..." Fareeha pauses, and looks Angela dead in the eyes for a moment. Something swims in her gaze. Deep and unfathomable._ _

__"I'd like us to be able to talk about these things. I'd like you to be able to rely on me instead of... Working yourself to the bone."_ _

__Angela looks into the steam, thinks._ _

__It's been a long time since she's truly relied on someone. She's worked with people, sure. Depended on soldiers to protect her, commanders to not abandon her for a slight strategic advantage. But she doesn't talk about herself to many people. Not about the hard things, the things that crawl beneath her skin and torment her mind._ _

__She's a doctor. Most people think that if anyone can take care of themselves, it's her._ _

__Most people are wrong._ _

__Not Fareeha. Not this time._ _

__Angela leans her head against Fareeha's shoulder, relaxes in the face of her overwhelming warmth,_ _

__"When I was twenty-two," she begins, "I thought I could save the world."_ _

__It's not much really, talking, in the grand scheme of things. But it's something. And maybe they don't sleep. But they connect, they relate, and when morning comes, they part feeling like there may just be at least one person on this lonely planet who understands where they've been._ _

__It's nice._ _

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so tired and this is the last thing I should've been spending time on but whatever i guess. Enjoy.


End file.
